The Dragonborn
by Aniphine
Summary: The snow slowly began to settle from her sight and the air began to clear. Both stood immobile as their forms became visible. Standing off one another in a battle that had not been seen in centuries. Gods versus mortals. Dragons versus Dragonborns.
1. Gods vs Mortals

An ungodly shriek sounded loud and high, joined with sound of its wings slicing through the air. It sent a chill down her spine and caused her to freeze instantly, like a deer in sudden danger. The forest, teaming with life and sound just seconds before, went swiftly silent.

Her muscles tightened instinctively and her breath caught her throat as her eyes jumped to the dark, cold, grey sky. But it was already gone.

Certainty settled into her mind, the hunt was on. The only question that stood; who was the predator and who was prey? Two roles that would stay unclear and undecided until the final moment. It was certainly hunting her, but this prey would not go quietly nor easily into Oblivion.

Her ears perked up immediately. Keenly waiting and listening, but she sat in absolute silence. An eerie stillness only broken by the dull breeze - unafraid of what traveled in its winds - gently brushing the branches of the pines that tower above her. The quietness only disturbed by the rough, yet fluid flowing of the stream nearby. Only the elements stayed calm with danger soaring near.

Her eyes were attentive, cautious and alert. She watched closely. Her eyes scanning warily the grey and cloudy, sky. Not a bird in the air; all had vanished. Not an animal in sight; all had hidden. Everything knew what lurked nearby; and so did she.

Her heartbeat quickened, adrenaline and endorphins seeping into her blood stream. Her hot breath coming faster, turning to steam in the chilled air. But what gripped at her heart was anticipation, rather then fear. She wasn't petrified, as she knew she should be; nervous maybe, but not afraid.

A trait born within her, as she was told.

The scream rang out again, echoing fast and powerful through the damp air. It seemed to be everywhere. Her eyes darted from one corner of the horizon to the next, scanned the entirety of the sky as fast as they could move, her head twisting and her body following suit as she frantically tried to catch sight of it.

But as her eyes searched for the origin of the signature call she only caught a glimpse of the tail of the monster, before it vanished above the tree line.

The tail appeared black, long, spiked and sharp. Definitely a fire-breather. She was oddly relieved by the notion. It's too cold already.

Her hand, clad in a steel and leather gauntlet, went to her back. Molding carefully around the hard, cold metal of her sword and lifting it from its sheath. The quiet, metallic whine of the blade against its casing as it was pulled free, sounding strangely comforting to her ears. She lowered it to hover carefully at her side, tightly in her grip.

An enormous shadow raced across the white, snow-covered ground at an unimaginable speed. The only warning before its monstrous form slammed hard into the ground, shaking the earth beneath her. She leaped away, her feet springing her only a few feet back - barely enough avoid the monstrous creature as it landed hard onto the ground. The earth underneath her shook, but she stood firm. Its wings closed around it as it absorbed the shock of the landing, creating a vortex of wind and sending a flurry of dirt and snow into the air, surrounding it. Concealing it from her sight.

She coughed quietly and blinked away the debris, her eyes burning slightly, and she squinted to try and see what the cloud of white and brown hid. Her grip instinctively tightening even more around the leather grip of her steel sword, making her hand turn numb. The shining metal of her blade flickering red and orange with the flames, she had enchanted it with, as if ready to jump into battle without her.

Her face flushing slightly from the chill and the adrenaline. Her skin tingling with anticipation, excitement and cold.

The fingers of her other hand stretched and flexed experimentally as a small, sparking, dancing, biting ball of electricity formed in her palm. It spun continually, sparking and shifting. Constantly in motion with its streams of purple, white and blue, waiting and ready, begging to be released.

She would beat this creature. She had to. She had battled and killed three before it. She could do it.

Her mind darted briefly back to the feeling of its soul becoming one with her own. A warm, intense, fast, bit frightening, filling, rush as its power became her own. Her muscles clenching in an attempt to handle and absorb so much power. The feeling of invincibility once it was hers.

Although she emerged stronger then before, she had been scarred by the battles. They were strong, powerful, deadly.

If she wins, she is rewarded richly.

If she looses... Oblivion. The Void will welcome her, finally.

The snow slowly began to settle from her sight and the air began to clear. Both stood immobile as their forms became visible. Standing off one another in a battle that had not been seen in centuries. Gods versus mortals. Dragons versus Dragonborns.

The ancient chant pounded in her ears, at the same intensity as a thousand soldiers shouting it as they marched into war. Repeating again and again in her mind.

_Dragonborn Dragonborn_

_By its honor is sworn_

_To keep evil forever at bay_

_And the fiercest foes rout_

_When they hear triumph's shout_

_Dragonborn for your blessing we pray_

_And the scrolls have foretold_

_Of black wings in the cold_

_That when brothers wage war come unfurled_

_Alduin bane of kings_

_Ancient shadow unbound_

_With a hunger to swallow the world_

Their silhouettes stood against a white barrier. So it began. The snow and dirt cleared in only seconds and her eyes locked onto the black and armored structure of the creature once worshiped as a god. The force within her nudged at her impatiently, beckoning her to go, act, move. Begged to be allowed to take control. The power with which she was born. The very purpose of her existence. But she forced it down for now. Told it to be calm.

She stood her ground. Waited.

The creature's long, sweeping, armored neck lifted its spiked and horned head to tower above her. Its huge, piercing, black, sharp, hard eyes locked onto her. Staring at her through narrowed eyes, as though speaking to her without words. Silently challenging her.

But she stood still. Daring it.

The dragon seemed aggravated by her audacity. It drew its head back with a quick breath as its eyes became wild, and the monstrous creature roared. Its cry echoing through the air and across the ground with earthshaking force; feeling as though it would rip her to shreds and send the world collapsing around her. She staggered back a few steps, but dug her feet into the ground and held her place.

Moments later, it quieted and looked at her menacingly as it saw she still stood. Breathing hard, she straightened herself, threw back her shoulders and took a step forward.

The force within her ached to be released and she unleashed it. Summoning the force and her strength, she inhaled a deep breath and let the power take control of her.

"Fus Ro Dah!" Her Voice sounded with an Unrelenting Force, intensity and power that was not entirely her own.

The Shout moved from within her - never feeling more natural in her life - and a huge, blue force of energy followed the words. It flew through the air, shaking the ground and all around it, with a matched intensity of the creature and struck hard onto the dragon.

It stumbled back with a surprised shriek and sat, stunned for seconds. Regaining its sense a moment later, it whipped its head from side to side and looked at her incredulously. Its dark eyes glowered at her, seemingly insulted and angry. With its fury, it drew back its head and let it fly forward, unleashed a long, powerful roar, followed with an incredibly intense pillar of fire.

Her mind didn't have time to compute, but the force within her, reveling in its control, acted. "Wuld!" The shout sounded loudly, and instantaneously her feet had carried her thirty feet to the left of the dragon, barely in time to avoid the column of flames that scorched where she just stood.

Quickly catching her step as she was returned to normal speed, she barely noticed the lightheaded feeling she always experienced after using the Shout she came to know as Whirlwind.

Her mind working like a finely tuned machine, she acted without thinking. She turned immediately and, channeling the energy brewing from within her, she sent the electricity - buzzing and snapping in anticipation in her hand - flying out of her grasp and into the hard armored skin of the dragon.

Oh, that rush of excitement and adrenaline that came with every movement. That certainty and comfort of the Voice and Force that lied within her.

She'd win. She knew she would. It's what she was born to do.

It was destiny she didn't know was hers.

A power she didn't know she possessed.

She is a Dragonborn.

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><p><strong>In case you're interested in knowing, my profile picture is what my Dragonborn is suppose to look like.<strong>

**I don't know who made it, or else I'd give them credit.**


	2. The Peace of Whiterun

**I still don't have my Skyrim game back yet, so I can't get anywhere in plot, but here's some fluffy stuff for anyone who cares to read it. There'll be a bit of action next chapter, but still no real plot, I'm afraid.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>The sun was setting just behind the city of Whiterun, hitting it in just a way that it doused the world around her in an auburn hue and a dusk chill settled subtlety in the air. Whiterun seemed like an ideal city; fortified behind its strong walls and perched on a hilltop, with the palace at its peak.<p>

A peaceful tranquility seemed to settle gently over the world as the day neared its end, as well as the Dragonborn. She simply sat; her eyes gazed absentmindedly into the orange glow of the sun and noticed faintly the dim moons above her grew slowly brighter. Her arm resting, with a half finished sweet roll in hand, against her propped up knee and she just gazed out across the field. A rare relaxation settled over her.

Distantly, her mind quietly implored her to go; quietly reminded her of her tasks. But another, slightly stronger will, shushed away the reason and indulged in the rest.

Finally, after the quiet battle in her mind carried on for a few minutes, she sided with the former and drew in a sharp breath, casting her eyes away from the scene fit for a painting. She forced herself to break from calming, trance-like state that she knew would consume her until long after nightfall.

She placed the last of her sweet roll in her mouth, before climbing from the stiff and lightly yellowed grass and returning her weight to her feet. Quickly running an attentive hand over herself, she dusted off stray blades of grass as her other hand swung down and caught up her leather bag, filled with all her rations, in one swift movement and carelessly slung it over her shoulder.

Shadowmere grazed calmly nearby and didn't bother to acknowledge the Dragonborn as she stepped to his side. She flipped open the saddle bags hanging from his back and placed her rations inside, then tied the leather strip tightly over it; to be sure it was secured shut.

Smiling faintly, the Breton ran a delicate, but certainly strong hand over Shadowmere's thick coat and patted him affectionately on his shoulder; feeling his strong muscles move under her touch as he took a step forward. He gave her something of a sideways glance with those glowing red eyes, before he returned to his browned grass and placidly ignored her.

She breathed a short laugh, shaking her head and mumbling something about the obnoxious horse to herself as she took a firm grip on the saddle's horn. She raised her foot to the stirrup and swung herself up onto her black stallion's back in a fluid motion. Shadowmere raised his head to attention and his ears perked up, aiming back to her, as if asking a question.

"We have to be in Whiterun before nightfall." The Dragonborn said plainly as she took the reigns tight in her hand.

Shadowmere snorted softly and flipped his head, as if voicing his displeasure. If he had a choice in the matter, he'd probably prefer to stay in the fields and graze on the frost bitten grass, rather then be confined to a pen at the stables.

The Dragonborn ignored the horse's protests and nudged him gently with her heels, "Come on. Yah!"

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><p>The hefty pile of newly acquired Dragon-bones clattered noisily and heavily on the thick, and apparently strong, wooden store counter at Warmaiden's, as the Breton Dragonborn released them from her arms.<p>

"These as well." The Breton took a weary breath and let it out in a sigh as she realized how much lighter her load had become.

The store owner shrugged regrettably, "Besides good conversation, Shepna, these Dragon-bones aren't good for much." Ulfberth War-Bear's gruff voice explained as he studied over the pile.

"But they're _Dragon-_bones. That _must_ mean they're stronger, maybe even a bit magical?" Shepna supposed, "Maybe a mage could use them - for a potion or something to that effect? I'm sure the wizard in Dragonsreach could find some use for them?"

"Then maybe _you_ could sell 'em to him? I have no use for them." Ulfberth said plainly, crossing his arms.

"Well, perhaps you could _re_-sell them? Make a fine bit of gold? Or they'd make a nice club, I suppose?" Shepna persuaded.

The pile of Dragon-bones was burdensome on her and the dull pain in her side made it even more difficult to haul them into Whiterun; she certainly didn't to carry them up the numerous flights of steps to the Dragonsreach. She had undoubtedly worked hard to harvest a Dragon's bones, - the dark bruising and tenderness of her ribs could atone to that - and she definitely didn't want to waste anything that could be gained from the battle. A decent amount of gold, even if lesser then she could find elsewhere, was worth it to her.

"Hmm… an interesting proposition…" Ulfberth tipped his head pensively, "There wouldn't be another shop in miles with a 'Dragons club'. Alright, I'll see if Adrinne can make something of them." He finally relented, but the sale wasn't finished yet.

They spent the next few minutes bartering back and forth with each other, trying to settle on a price that suited them both well. Ulfberth was an honest man and Shepna was willing to work with a kind individual, but dragons had only just returned to Skyrim. The suitable value of their effects hadn't been decided.

Eventually, they were able to settle on a fair price and Ulfberth hauled the pile of goods she had sold him into the back room as the Dragonborn took her bagful of gold and tipped her head in a farewell.

Shepna emerged from Warmaiden's, feeling lighter and renewed, now that the findings from her most recent gallivant were properly exchanged for gold. The sky had changed from a bright and flamboyant orange to a dull pink, lightly hidden behind sparse clouds, and she knew nightfall would arrive soon.

She tucked the gold into her pocket and trailed out into the busy market district. Shepna ignored the calls and offers of food stand clerks and store owners she passed by, and kept her eyes forward as she added up her current amount of gold in her head. A brief calculation later, she found herself very pleased with the result.

She finally had enough. After scavenging and selling anything she could get her hands on, as well as saving every gold piece she had, she could finally buy her very own house - along with all the furnishings to go inside it. Now the only task that remained was to speak with the Steward at Dragonsreach, and if all went well, she may even be able to sleep in her own bed by that night.

Ignoring the bustle that surrounded her, the Breton's eyes traveled up the smooth incline to the towering and finely built palace of Dragonsreach that stood at the peak of the city. Only hesitating a moment, she quickly started off into a brisk walk through the crowd, lightly pushing others from her path. As soon as the throng of people had cleared into an open space, she raised her pace into a sprint up the stairs; her Ebony boots making a metallic _click_ against the stone of the steps with each stride.

After making her way up a few flights in rapid speed, her breath was becoming labored and she was becoming anxious and eager to finally have the deed in hand. So, without missing a beat and still at a full run, she filled her lungs with a quick breath and let the strong and powerful force escape from her lips easily.

"Wuld!" A lightning-like crack sounded instantly as she burst through the sound barrier effortlessly; startling all the nearby birds and causing them to leap into flight. New travelers jumped and stared at her in shock and bewilderment, but most of the townsfolk - used to her antics - just shook their heads and continued on with their day.

As the Whirlwind Shout's burst quickly ended, she found herself trotting up the last step to the long stone bridge that lead to the entrance of Dragonsreach. With her destination that much nearer, she quickly picked up her pace and ran the distance.

Her armored legs had carried her nearly halfway, before she let the brewing force within her escape again in a Shout, "Wuld!" And allowed the force to carry her, the same as before.

As the world around her slowed back to normal speed, her breath caught in her throat, her legs locked and she screeched to a halt just barely before she collided with the massive double doors of Dragonsreach. Her eyes went wide in surprise and she stood at a full stop in front of the entrance, with just an inch or two between herself and the thick wooden doors. She felt the warmth of her breath reflecting back onto her as she released the gasp.

She silently scolded herself for not planning that out better and caught the sound of a faint chuckle from a nearby guard. She whipped her head around to glare at him warningly and he quickly gained his composure, but a small smirk still stayed on his lips.

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><p>After having a brief discussion with the Steward, she had the deed to her very own house, in Whiterun, in her hand, but was considerably less rich in gold. She was forced to wait in Dragonsreach for nearly three hours, while the Steward had her new home fully refurbished, but she didn't mind much.<p>

Finally, her home was completed and the key was hers.

She entered the house and looked around. A nice flame burned brightly in the fireplace in the sunken floor, lighting up its surroundings. The house's décor included a new, but rather comforting aura as well as a small dining room; plenty of desks, chests and cupboards, and an intricately woven carpet spread out over the wooden floor. She climbed the stairs to the second floor to find a small study, with a desk and an enchanting table. She stepped into the bedroom to find a large and certainly welcoming bed, desks, chairs, and a large washtub.

Feeling filthy from her travels and her recent battles, she settled on a bath and took quick advantage of the fire in the living room to boil some water. After pouring the steaming water into the copper tub, she slipped off her armor piece by piece and took off her helmet, letting her dark brown hair rest softly on her shoulders.

Stepping over to the tub, she caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror and seemed taken back by the sight of herself for the first time in days. Her eyes showed a dark green with a faint blue hue to them and seemed unmarred by the aged, thin, but deep scar that trailed across her right eye and into her eyebrow, slightly disturbing it's shape. Even relaxed, they seemed vigilant.

Careful, elegant, dark burgundy markings trailed from the corners of her eyes, followed her temples and disappeared into her hairline.

Dark bruising showed around her ribs, and only stood as proof to the aching and tender injury that laid beneath the skin.

Pulling away her gaze, she slipped into the warm, inviting and quite heavenly water. Letting the warmth massage her sensitive injury, muscles as she let her mind relax for the first time in days.


End file.
